


don't.

by mandobls



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:42:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23217202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandobls/pseuds/mandobls
Summary: in which everything about this is forbidden
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 56





	don't.

it’s hard. giving away padme’s children. obi-wan can tell they will be strong, but it’ll be a matter of time until they’re ready. 

he’s decided to stay on tatooine, to watch over the boy. the girl will have the life of a princess. he has confidence in organa’s protection. 

but there’s something he has to do first. 

a funeral. for anakin and padme. he knows anakin is alive. he can _feel_ it. but what anakin will become is alive. the little boy he met on tatooine is not. 

he returns to naboo, kneels when prompted, speaks when looked to. it’s all just numb. he is unfeeling, too broken and… _angry_. in himself, for losing his brother to the dark side’s pull. he pushes it down, though. it is done, he needs to move on, for the anger is consuming.

condolences are barely heard as he storms back to his ship. he has to get away. it’s suffocating there.

his hyperdrive is damaged, so it’ll take him at least two standard months to get back to tatooine, but maybe it’s better this way. he needs some silence.

but of course. _of course_. he is nearly out of fuel within two days. he groans, quickly searching for a close planet. this is why he hates flying.

the nearest is only a couple hours’ trip away, and he hurriedly sets his course.

he lands without trouble. the mechanic in the shop grunts after inspecting his ship.

“it’ll be a while before i can finish fixing everything. i don’t even know how you flew with this thing.” obi-wan nods with a sigh.

“how long?”

“think a week, if not two.” 

“that’s alright. thank you.” the mechanic grunts again.

“yeah, yeah.” he’s stranded here for a bit. 

he walks into town, spotting a bar. he can sit for a while before he finds a place to stay.

the bar is packed, music booming and people brushing against each other. obi-wan takes a seat at the bar, pointing a finger at a bottle of orange liquid in the background and holding up a finger, the bartender nods and-

“make that two.” he spins in his seat, placing a hand on his blaster on instinct, locking eyes with a t-visored helmet. it turns back towards the bartender. “oh! and-” the ugnaught behind the bar turns, holding two glasses. “could i get a straw with that?” obi-wan cocks an eyebrow, and the mandalorian beside him just shrugs.

“modern solutions, dear jedi.” the glasses clink as they’re set on the bar, straw lolling around one’s rim.

“of course,” he replies, watching the straw disappear under the mandalorian’s helmet.

“so, what business does an ugly planet like this have with a jedi like you?” she asks, modulated voice betraying a smile.

“getting fuel and repairs. going to head back to tatooine and retire.” the mandalorian tilts her head in recognition.

“so soon?” he shrugs. “that’s alright. life is hard here.”

“i’ve experienced much more in the past years than i should have liked to.”

“understandable.”

“what’s your business with this ‘ugly planet’?” obi-wan asks, mimicking her words. she laughs, leaning an elbow on the table and gesturing to the green paint on her armor.

“duty. i keep peace on this planet as best i can.” he tilts his head.

“and you can’t leave?” 

“i was stationed here. this is the way.” she drains the alcohol from her cup, straw sucking nothing but air. he finishes soon after.

“do you know any place i could stay?” he asks, standing and straightening.

“people are hostile here. there’s a reason i’m here. no hostels or anything. stay with me,” she offers, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“oh no, i couldn’t intru-”

“you’re _not_ intruding, jedi. i get lonely anyway.” she stands. “what’s your name?”

he hesitates for a second, but there’s something that tells him she is trustworthy.

“obi-wan. and yours?” the mandalorian sweeps past him towards the door, cape flowing.

“follow me.”

her home is small, but big enough for the two of them to weave around each other comfortably in the space.

“i have an extra cot in that-” she points- “room over there. this is the kitchen, there’s a ‘fresher over here, and that’s my room.”

“i can’t thank you enough.”

“that thank you is enough. do you need anything? clothes, tools?” the realization hits him, and he nods.

“a spare change would be nice, but i don’t need much.” 

“alright. we can head down to the village tomorrow.”

the mandalorian provides food and bed, not even asking how long he’ll be staying. 

he watches her put together dinner, helmet still firm over her tunic and loose pants.

“i can wait in my room if you’d prefer,” he offers. “i’m sure you’re tired of wearing your helmet.” a hand waves in his general direction.

“i spend most of my life in this helmet, obi-wan.” electricity shocks his spine. “i wouldn’t if it was uncomfortable.” she brings the food over, two dishes of something. “okay, i don’t cook. i’ve never cooked for somebody else. i tried to make something and i don’t really know what became of it.” she pauses. “jedi.” her mock-serious tone makes him look up, staring into her stoic visor with a smile. “this is going to taste horrible.” he laughs as she places the plate in front of him gingerly.

“i’m sure it’ll be fine. anything you’ll give me is good enough.” 

“you say that _now_ , but…” she shrugs, clutching the other plate as she walks over to her room. “i promise i’ll eat breakfast with you! i’ll be back, and we can see how it tastes.”

“i look forward to it,” he calls as she shuts the door.

it’s not a second later when there’s noise again.

“have you eaten it yet?” she asks, voice unmodulated and bright.

“not yet,” he replies, fond smile stuck on his face as he prods the food in front of him with a fork.

“ **don’t**!” the mandalorian says, playfully warning tone shining through so clearly without her modulator.

“i won’t.” obi-wan puts his fork down, inspecting the plate again.

she returns, helmet on once more, holding her barely-touched food.

“that was _not_ worth the trouble i went to,” she announces. he laughs, shifting to lean back in his chair.

“i can hold out till breakfast.”

“you sure?” she asks, hand inches from his plate. 

“of course. you’ve been so hospitable, and i think i can wait a few hours.” she nods, picking up his plate and happily slinging the food into the trash.

“alright. you wanna take the ‘fresher first?”

“no, it’s fine.”

breakfast is blended, strange, spiky fruit blitzed into submission so that they can eat together. 

“i’ve got straws for this exact purpose!” she’d exclaimed.

they go down to the village straight after, just a ten-minute walk that’s easily filled by idle conversation. she’s nothing short of hilarious.

“i’ve heard things about mandalore and its inhabitants,” he says.

“are you surprised with what you found?” she asks, gesturing to herself vaguely.

“mandalorians are fierce warriors. i’ve always been under the impression that-”

“we’re _all_ hardasses?” he blinks, opening his mouth to deny- “nah. i’m the only one that’s not.” he laughs. “but you’re right. not many of us have a sense of humor,” she grunts. “you got lucky with me!”

“i can tell,” he replies, attention focusing on the village that’s just meters away.

“okay, robes should be over there. i’ve got credits, so you can just choose whatever.” obi-wan almost refuses, before realizing that his are on his ship, which is still in repair.

“can… can i ask you something?” her head turns towards him, listening. “why have you been so kind to me?” she nods, facing forward again.

“fair question.” she pauses. “i owe my life to the jedi.” his head bobs as he listens. “i admire your way of life, you know. so selfless and kind. i could never be like that.”

“you are selfless.” he says automatically. why else would she be housing him? 

she remains silent, helmet facing stagnant forward as they approach a booth. 

he keeps it quick, picking something that’ll hold him over. the robes he wears has been through many a-

“fight! over there!” the mandalorian groans, glancing back at him.

“i’ve got to go break it up. follow if you’d like.” 

he does, leaving the robe and keeping a hand on the weapon at his hip.

it’s only a fist fight, but the surrounding villagers swarm the area, egging them on.

the mandalorian shoves her way through the crowd, pulling one away from the other with a firm hand on each villagers’ chest. he follows, staying at the inner edge of the crowd.

one of them swings at her, and he’s about to step in-

but her fist strikes true first, knocking out the villager with one strike. she turns to the other.

“i hope that you can sort this out when he wakes up. _civilly_.” he nods, head bowed, and the mandalorian walks back to obi-wan.

“let’s go get your robes. and maybe some food for later.” he nods, still shocked as he trails behind her.

it’s only been a week and they’ve fallen into a bit of a routine.

he helps her around the house, walks with her as she makes her rounds. and in turn, she provides him with a home and butterflies for his stomach. lots of butterflies. _birds_ in there.

it’s bad.

and it gets even worse when she almost kicks down the door of her house, brandishing a bottle of mystery liquor like a trophy.

“you don’t need to work tomorrow?” he asks, amused. she just laughs triumphantly, gathering two clean glasses and a straw.

“they can take care of themselves. the way only says i need to stay on this planet. i need a _break_.” he takes a seat in the chair across from her, holding a glass as she fills it with amber. “and besides, you’re leaving tomorrow. we should celebrate!” _right… he’s leaving._

it’s strong. he’s nearly delirious within a few hours.

but not as delirious as her.

the mandalorian periodically bangs her head on the table, laughing at everything and anything.

“…no, but you know! you’ve got a thing going on.”

“a _thing_?” he asks, almost crying in his laughter.

“like… like…” she whines, head lolling. “i dunno the word in basic,” she slurs, hand gesticulating wildly. “ _copyc_.”

“give me- give me the general _gist_ of it.” she nods, index finger raised as she thinks.

“ _attractive_.” she exclaims, and he almost sobers up.

“you think i’m attractive?” he asks incredulously, scooting closer.

“ **don’t** _tease._ not like… the _face_.” she pauses in consideration. “but also the face, i guess. but the _word_ means… your _aura_.”

“my aura?”

“yeah, obi, your _vibe_. it's personality. your personality is attractive.” 

“wh-” her helmet makes a loud _clunk_ as it drops onto the table, and he can tell she’s unconscious.

hopefully, neither remember that conversation the next day.

he remembers everything.

his head pounds and the light shining through the window is too bright. his neck is craned at an awkward angle. _he must have fallen asleep after her last night_.

he hopes that at least she doesn’t remember anything.

a bottle is placed in front of him. “for- for your hangover,” she says awkwardly, turning back around.

she remembers everything. 

breakfast is quiet and tense, the sound of the mandalorian sucking her straw the only sound.

she sighs, looking up.

“look, you’re leaving soon. i don’t want this to be the last thing you remember about me.” he nods in agreement. “we can just forget about it.” 

she finishes her drink, standing and taking his empty glass.

he stands with her. “wait.”

she turns, placing the glasses down and looking up at him.

“you called me _copyc_.” he can see her getting ready to respond and quickly speaks before she can. “and i think you are too.” 

she steps closer hesitantly, and he places his hands on her waist lightly. one of her hands comes up to rest on his cheek, other over his shoulder.

obi-wan’s hands rest on her helmet, almost-

“ **don’t**.” her hands are suddenly on his, a practiced instinct. “it’s forbidden.” he nods, hand on her hips again, hers still on top of his.

“what will you have me do?” it’s a pained whisper. 

the mandalorian’s hands raise to his face again, slowly pulling his head closer so his forehead rests against the cool metal of her helmet.

he doesn’t know the significance, but he can _feel_ it, closing his eyes and pulling her ever-close.

“come with me.” it’s useless.

“i _can’t_.” he understands.

“i know.” 

“obi.” he opens his eyes. “my name… it’s-”

“you **don’t** have to,” he says. 

she hesitates. “but i want to.” 

so she tells him, he nods, then they’re silent. it is forbidden.


End file.
